


Dralde

by woolgathered



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Not Canon Compliant, retroactive canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woolgathered/pseuds/woolgathered
Summary: A bit of fluff & smut to correct the canon of a dnd session where I felt too self conscious to detail the events of the fireside talk my PC might have had with NPC Dralde, a Goliath warrior we encountered one evening.





	1. Dralde

 

This work is inspired by an image I found on Pinterest by an unknown artist: 

The coals were moving, glowing with gasses, mesmerizing.

I’d remained by the fire with Dralde for a watch with our guide, Jeb. He was none too fond of the Goliath and had chosen to make himself scarce. Dralde added branches to the fire, sometimes breaking them like twigs for a better fit.

 He was massive, even crouching. His feet were bare like my own- I liked warming mine as close as comfort allowed by the fire. Dark markings seemed to travel every inch of his skin. I wondered what it would feel like to stand right next to him, if his stony blue skin was as cold as it looked or if his hands would feel warm on my cheek.

Keeping my eyes from his, I watched those hands while he talked of his people and their ways. He could probably encircle my neck in one grip but I was not afraid. It was as if he lived and breathed honor and glory, for he spoke of little else. I wondered if I could make him smile.

So I told him, I told him everything. How I ran away. The Well, Sweetie, everything. I may have left out the part about my song for Walagorn, and I didn’t go into detail about Roger Abernathy. Dralde didn’t smile, though. He listened intently, interjecting praise here and there, asking questions sometimes, and watching me quietly as I fumbled through our story with none of my entertainer’s skill.

 I caught myself in the middle of a particularly giddy laugh, embarrassed, and met Dralde’s gaze for the first time. His cold, blue irises sparkled in the firelight, but his face seemed unchangeable, like a sculpture. Before I knew what I was doing, my own trembling hand reached out to touch his pale blue jawline.

And it was warm. His smooth skin radiated heat into my cold fingers, which I drew quickly away, conscious of their chill. Even as I didhis fingers surrounded my wrist in their grasp and brought my hand back to rest on his cheek, and I opened my palm once more to explore. 

Barely breathing, I slid my hand towards his ear then down his neck. He had no stubble or sign of hair anywhere, only the tattoo-like stripes in lovely symmetry down his body. I was overcome with a desire to breathe him in, to analyze his scent and categorize all the ways he was himself, to remark on each discovery like a talkative child...

 My mind raced, my hand slid, seeking warmth down his neck and marveling in his smooth, unyielding skin. Damp firewood crackled out the passage of time behind me and my heartbeat drowned out thoughts that danced in dizzying spirals in my head. My fingers traced a black streak in a jagged arc and stopped where it met its twin in the notch between his collarbones. I considered following this line further, catching his eyes again for approval. His eyes showed no response of any kind. 

I pulled my hand back then, crawling from my cloak on the duff to sit in front of him where his legs crossed in casual grace. How did heproject so much calm with that massive, angular body? His strength was dangerous, but resting. His form betrayed nothing. His eyes still met mine and he had not spoken.

 _“What are you doing, Dora? This isn’t a song. This is reality. You need to grow up!”_ My mother’s voice chided me from the past, but the memory emboldened me as I pushed it away and rose to my knees, leaning forward into Dralde’s instant embrace.

He smelled like smoke and leather, tasted like iron. I didn’t know quite what to do after I kissed him sweetly, but he did. His hands cupped my head and he kissed me, forcing my mouth open and entering it with his curious tongue, before moving- half-licking, never losing contact- to my chin and neck, my ears and back to my lips with surprisingly playful bites. Leaning into his attentions, I shocked myself by accidentally rocking him back flat on the ground. As his warmth left me I followed it, climbing gently over those endless legs to straddle him, avoiding his belts and leather-clad dirk but enjoying the soft hide of his clothing between my thighs. I felt the fur trim of his kilt tickle my ankles where my bare feet dug into the cold pine duff, one of a thousand details of the moment I wanted to capture and keep forever, but soon it was lost in a sea of sensation. Dissatisfied with my conquering position, his impossible hands took me and laid me down on my cloak again like a toy, one smoothing my hair from my eyes while the other pushed my skirt to my navel. I shivered - not the cold, for he seemed to heat my very bones with his nearness. Even his bare back, where my hands had first embraced him, was warm like sun-soaked rock. He pulled his hand from my hair for a moment and fiddled at his belt, drawing the leather kilt away with a single movement. I wanted to look but I bit my lip and maintained our gaze. He paused and stared back at me, as if in challenge, and I couldn’t win such a contest. I lowered my eyes to look towards my toes. His now-naked body rose over mine like a tent, knees pressed firmly against either side of my hips. I followed the intricacies of his markings from his nipples to his navel, and below I saw the erection his kilt had hidden.

 He wanted me, and I wanted him. Not the longing I’d nurtured for a hero, someone to love me. No, this was not a want in my head or in my heart, but deep in my belly, and it twisted my insides so that I felt like I would die if I did not have him. He slowly lowered his body against me, his cock hard between us, as if to test his weight on my frame.

“It’s okay. I’m alright.” I whispered, giggling nervously. He smiled with his eyes and he kissed me hungrily, his hands searching along with his tongue. I thought for a brief moment to tell him I didn’t know what I was about. For all my flirting, I’d never been this close to another person. For an even briefer moment I remembered my companions nearby, hopefully sleeping-

 But my mind couldn’t be elsewhere for long. I was covered in Dralde, breathing his breath and feeling his strong fingers explore my thighs, my arse, and- oh, it was glorious- suddenly, he pried my knees apart with gentle hands and pressed his loins against mine, my legs barely able to open widely enough for his hips, and he was inside me.

 I could recite a dozen tavern songs about lovers getting on, and I’m no stranger to the crude talk of rough men. I am necessarily skilled at avoiding situations like this, but not like this... this I wanted.

 It hurt, surprising me, and then it hurt in the most delicious way, and when I cried out he kissed my mouth quiet, pushing further inside me with each thrust. I opened my eyes then, reeling from the pressure inside me, and found his eyes open too. He paused, watching me, then dove into my neck, kissing and biting gently as he increased his rhythm. I thought I would burn from within from his heat, that I would break in two with each movement. My hands found his and he pinned me to the damp needles beneath us, his torso rising above me, the fire dancing behind him.

 I was lost in him, drunk, whimpering against his mouth and tongue, distantly aware of the ripping cloth as he tore my dress eyelets to find my breasts. I did not perish at each moment as I thought I would, but the boiling heat in my body rose until I melted against him in complete submission and pleasure. My breath escaped in little mewling moans quite against my will as he moved against me.

 He was making growling utterances with his efforts now, and he held my wrist to the dirt with one hand, wrapping the other behind my neckto pull me into him. I relaxed into his relentless fucking, my whole body weak as hand grip when one has just awoken. I could feel sweat cooling on my forehead. My bare arse rubbed warm friction against the wool of the thick purple cloak as Dralde moved inside me. I tried in vain to wrap myself around him just to have something solid to cling to, but the breadth of his body was surreal. My free hand explored his face again and he bit my finger, sucking on it and thrusting into me with renewed vigor until he roared and came in a thunderous shudder, collapsing on one side with me still entangled and limp next to him.

Cold descended quickly without him above me, so I drew my legs in and pulled my linen skirt down over my stomach. I felt a sticky wetness between my thighs and reached to touch there, half to feel the mess and half in wonder of my woman’s body. I couldn’t see his expression but one warm, wide hand felt it’s way to my waist and pressed me tight against him once more. Then he sighed, got to his knees, and pulled me upright with him, setting me gingerly upon my cloak once more. I pulled my skirt down to cover myself and tucked my ripped bodice together over my breasts. I could still feel his kisses there, everywhere. And our eyes met again.

 “I can take you to my tribe. You would be mine.“ He wore the same calm demeanor as before.

 “Come with us. We could travel together,” I countered. The gravity of what we had just done was hitting me and I winced at the loss of moments-ago bliss in his arms. I couldn’t _be his_. I couldn’t leave my dear companions for a stranger, no matter how I wanted him.I put my hand in his and leaned against him, the fire’s flicker soothing my thoughts into oblivion.

 When Vasellia and Viertes woke to relieve our watch, I was half afraid my tiefling friend would be able to tell somehow- that she had magic that could see my missing virginity. If she did she showed it not at all. I found my bedroll, stealing glances back at Dralde who still reclined by the fire, unreadable. _I could be his._


	2. Little One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second meeting. Hasn’t happened/ not canon compliant

I occupied my woolen cloak, carefully keeping my toes within its borders, its violet circle laid out over the bare rock on which we’d built the evenings’ fire. I was trying to disappear. 

I’d learned this trick as a child when my father would lecture or my mother scold. I remember practicing it during lessons and long days of weaving for the festivals. I was quite good at my trick, the art of losing oneself so that you aren’t actually present, but it wasn’t enough tonight. Instead of disappearing I was trapped. I could not raise my eyes without meeting his.

He was here. He’d seen our fire and found us this time, weeks after our first meeting. He could have stepped out of my memory, so unchanged was he, but I felt like a different person. He was Dralde, a Goliath man we’d helped in these mountains, warrior of the Kro-Tarl. My first and only lover. 

What can one say about such things? Had he even rightly known my name? But I won’t make him out as a beast: it was I who first kissed him. I didn’t know what I was doing- which young girl does? I never imagined I’d give my innocence so easily and to a stranger, but Dralde was...unexpected.

After he’d had me, he had offered to keep me. _A gentleman giant_. Why do I feel so embittered? I had refused his offer. And he let me go. 

I did not dare look up. When his tall, broad frame first appeared over the ridge, it felt like a dream. But he had not acknowledged me at all. I could barely breathe in his presence, so overwhelming were the intrusive memories of his tongue, his arms, his hands prying my knees apart to gain access to me. I never thought I’d see him again. I left him because my companions said so, convinced me to follow along. I left him for these dear ones who consistently didn’t even listen to me. Well, except Vasellia.

But that was of little importance, for he showed no sign of similar distress. Of course not: his passionless expression was unreadable. I could see his shape, strong and relaxed, through blurred flames of the fire. We had barely spoken. He couldn’t know what he’d done. He probably thought I was just a loose woman, some camp doxy and nothing more. Yes, I would have to accept that I was alone in my fixation on those fireside events. Grow up, Dora. There are more important things. Only a fool would think my friends- especially Vasellia- didn’t notice my state. I dreaded their questions, and doubled my efforts at disappearing.

“Whatever became of your beast, Dralde? The one you were hunting.” Viertes asked, his mouth full of half-chewed dried meat. I felt my short fingernails dig into my calves through my skirt as his resonating voice replied, “Nothing yet, though I have felled two of the Winter Wolves since we shared our last fire.”  His voice was so strange. I remembered coming up with questions that first night by the fire-after everyone else slept-just to hear him speak. 

Oh, the relief I felt when watches were chosen and I felt I could leave the fireside without raising concern. I was intent on ignoring the confused anguish I felt in every particle of my being until we parted ways once again, hopefully forever. I shook out my cloak and ventured off to take care of nature’s business before sleep. There were no trees to hide behind just here, so I wandered down the rocky slope to find some.

I was on my way back to camp, shivering a little and wishing for a glass of wine, when he found me. He stepped out from behind a group of trees, crossed the distance between us, and leaned his head down to entreat my gaze, which I reluctantly gave.

“Come, Little One, and give your body to me.” He said, with a rakish smile. I flushed with anger, looking up at him in disbelief.

“I will not! I’m not a whore. You, you-you don’t even know me!”

His arms wrapped around me now, holding me tightly as I wriggled to pull away from his grasp.

“Be still.” He said, “Feel my strength and know I don’t need your permission.” I let my legs drop in desperation and he held me up easily, squeezing me harder now, making me fight for each breath. He pulled me into him and kissed me, hard, with warm lips over my tightly closed mouth.

“I don’t need your permission, Little One. I want it.” And he set me down gently on my feet, smoothing my sleeves as he did so.

He stood straight now, hands in supplication, waiting. I caught my breath, taking him in: He wore fur trimmed boots and kilt, all leather, chest bare despite the mountain chill. I remembered that soft hide between my naked thighs. Dark, curving lines drew up his chest in perfect symmetry, crossing and arcing up his neck and even streaking across his eyelids. I knew they covered every inch of him, and that no hair grew anywhere to cover them. I lingered on his ear and neck, breathing quickly again in fear of his cold eyes. But he wasn’t cold. My hands knew that heat, my lips-

He towered above me. I’d never stood side-by-side with him. Our intimacy had taken place on my cloak by the fire, on hands and knees and backs, our height difference artificially reduced. I felt the cold air catch in my throat. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths before looking up.

There they were: those sapphire orbs. It seemed that everything about Dralde was designed to match these mountains except his eyes. His stone blue skin with its ebony stripes was beautiful in a natural sense, but the glowing ice of his eyes made him seem otherworldly. I thought I was good at reading people, manipulating them even, but not him. One look and I was illiterate, frozen like a frightened deer. 

“I’m not a whore. You alone have touched me. I-“

I couldn’t believe I was actually forming words.

“I do not think you are a...whore.” He spoke slowly, unused to the language. “But I want you. Do you not want me?” He touched my cheek and tears overflowed from my eyes. “Have I hurt you, Little One?”

I wanted to bang my fists against him, to shout and kick and curse at him. I wanted to demand he stop calling me Little One. I did none of those things. As hot tears streamed down my neck, I let my cloak fall behind me.

He leapt into action, raising me by my waist into his arms. He made large strides with me, my arms around his neck, until I was supported against a thick tree trunk. There, he commenced his kisses.

His radiating heat was a relief and made my nose burn. I knew I looked a mess: tears and cold skin, overwhelmed, exhausted. But he kissed me warm, and I let myself return those kisses with all the longing I’d felt these weeks.

Cradled between him and the tree, I watched Dralde pull my skirt up into my lap. He methodically rolled it out of the way before reaching around explore with his hand, first cautiously and then with more bearing as he found my wet core. I felt his finger slowly enter me and I gasped in surprise, unfamiliar with his play. He paused only to check my reaction before continuing even more boldly. I felt watched, like I was on stage, and couldn’t summon my performers courage. Soon it was no matter, as my body responded to his hand and I lost myself in the sensation. My wetness smeared across his chest when my hips bucked in reaction, a second finger slipping in to join the first, rough skin made velvety- smooth inside me. 

I watched his face, searching for a key to understanding him, anything. His heavy belt and kilt hit the ground beneath us, weapons clanking against the rocks, shattering the moment. I shifted anxiously at the audible reminder of my precarious position and he took heed, drawing me back into his arms and kneeling with me still wrapped around him, laying me gently down. I loved seeing him above me. The sun was setting on us, the light golden, my tears drying taut on my cheeks.

I leaned forward to pull my long dress over my head, tossing it nearby. Dralde had not the patience for undressing before and had not seen me unclothed. Now his eyes took me in like a predator about to pounce. He sprang, pulling me against him, and buried his face in my breasts, with nibbling and sucking kisses. But I missed his fingers inside me and wanted more, so I pulled his head up from my chest and climbed fully into his lap, hovering over his cock until I felt the tip of it against my opening. Dralde had been allowing me to lead, but at this he took over, pushing me down on his erection without warning, his sigh of pleasure drowned out by my involuntary wail as he drove me down then lifted me to bring me down again and again and again.

I couldn’t keep quiet, though I knew I should make some attempt- we weren’t miles from the others. At first I bit my tongue hoping for distraction from the intensity of him inside me, but soon I was riding him and pushing myself onto him. I leaned into his chest and he tilted slowly back onto the ground. I was rocking on him rapidly now, holding his hands to the forest floor for support, enjoying myself far too much to feel self-conscious, a sensuous heaven radiating from my core. It grew, engulfing all pain, until I slowed to a wilting halt above him, whimpering and weak, which drew the first laugh I’d ever heard in that low voice as Dralde turned me gently onto my back on dry, rustling pine needles, smiling broadly, pushing himself deep inside me, my body twitching under him with after shocks of bliss. He spread my legs wide and gripped my thighs as he fucked me hard and fast now, beading sweat shaking from his skin to fall on me.

His hands searched me, roughly gripping up my torso, until they wrapped around my neck, choking me as he pulled me with all his strength into him in time with his thrusts. His sweat covered me, his heart beat amplified into drumbeats where my ear pressed to his chest. When he reached his climax, groaning and shaking, he freed me. I gasped and coughed, Dralde heavy on top of me, our breathing ragged. 

Our bodies shifted as we caught our breath, until he cradled me in his arms, face to face. I noticed tiny things I hadn’t before. A fading scar on his temple. Tiny holes up his earlobes for jewelry. He leaned on one elbow over my chest, watching. Was he inspecting me, too? What did he see?

There were so many fundamental things about me he did not know- could not know. Naturally this was also true of him: that I knew nothing but his name. I had kissed exactly one man and it was him. Surely he had done this with others, though, I argued to myself. Though I had no one to compare him to, I felt like he handled me with practiced skill. 

His mind must also have been on our unorthodox union, for he carefully spoke, “If I had known you were still a girl by the fire...I would not have been so rough, Little One. I lost myself.” He touched my neck, red patches glaring where he’d gripped, “I have done it again.”

I looked up at him, remembering my cold, trembling hand on his cheek that night and how he’d waited to return my affections until they were painfully obvious.

“You may call me Little One. But my name is Dora. Nymphadora. I’m a musician...you haven’t had a chance to hear me but you will. I’ll sing for you...” I raked a hand through my hair to remove the pine needles. “I’ll write a song for you.” 

We dressed and Dralde led me back to camp in the dark. Viertes and Aramil sat up on watch as we arrived by the fire. Aramil raised a brow but Viertes kept his eyes on his blade, tilting it in the firelight. 

I slept near the fire, where the heat reminded me of our lovemaking. Dralde sat up nearby, quiet. _Did_ he sleep? Would he stay? 

**Author's Note:**

> Be kind, I’ve never written anything of this sort before.


End file.
